


the winter in your bones

by fleetingblossom



Category: Diabolik Lovers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:32:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetingblossom/pseuds/fleetingblossom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brief vignettes for the winter. </p><p>Ayato. Her fingers pinch the edge of his coat, heavy black wool hanging from his shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the winter in your bones

**Author's Note:**

> Part gift, part celebration for my favorite season. Tried to do something a little different and more nonlinear than I usually do.

Her fingers pinch the edge of his coat, heavy black wool hanging limply from his frame, all muscle and sinew tensed as she touches buttons to buttonholes, far too careful. Ayato never speaks when she does this, when her eyes are watching, winter frost creeping in from the windows.

Every night, she has the windows wide open, blanket gathered around her shoulders as she stares and stares, never saying a word. The snowflakes land in her eyelashes and he presses his lips against them as they melt on her skin.

She’s never as cold as he is, never as cold as his hands when she slips between the bedroom sheets, curling tightly up against his chest in an attempt to ward off the ghosts. He lets himself rest his head against hers, fingers gripping the thick curls of hair so hard that some nights, she wakes up with a start.

“Stay still, Ayato.” Her breath smells like mint and he scrunches up his nose, wondering if she should hold onto those rituals that made her so human, like the heart that beat in its cage, the heart that didn’t quite belong to her anymore.

His, all his, from the frostbitten toes to red lips parting, “Did you close the window?” she’ll say, her head rolling against his shoulder. Breath hot, her fingers touch the tips of his lips. His mouth opens.

Closes.

She is standing at the window again, staring out three stories up, red blood from his love seeping through the floorboards. Some nights she’s so restless, eyes staring out that window, so much so that when she sleeps he draws the curtains.

His, all his, when she brushes his hair from his eyes, fingers fumbling from the cold as she buttons his coat. “Stay still, Ayato,” she repeats again, this time louder, and he stops moving, eyes watching her hands, her bare feet on the floor.

Her fingers are so close against his neck he squirms, blue lips pressing against his as she whispers _I love you_ , _I need you, I belong to you_. Brushing the snow from her lashes, he lets those words sink in and almost finds the strength to return them.

Watching her curled up in those sheets, she looks far too pale, far too small, and he shuts the window to keep out the snow, slipping in beside her. “I closed the window,” he says, not quite sure why, when she sleeps like the way she does, shoulders taut against her skin.

His mouth opens. Closes. Canine teeth cuts against his lips and his blood paints lips when they kiss, when she sits at the windowsill, eyes faraway and his hands curl around her shoulder. “What are you looking at?”

When she finishes all the buttons, shiny and black, she smiles just a little, tiptoeing to reach his hair, to brush it into place before she straightens his collar. “Thank you.”

“Why did you close the window?” Her words are swallowed by his mouth, tongue warming frostbite lips as he sinks his needle teeth into her, fingers exploring the canvas of her skin stretched far too taut across a frame of bones.

She watches snowstorm, white petals whirling into her hair as he sets his hands against her bare skin. “It’s getting cold.” He shuts the window and runs his hand along her bare skin as she reaches to undo the buttons of his coat.

“So it is.”


End file.
